Where Do Hero's Go When They Die?
by TwistedLogic
Summary: Once when I was little I asked my father where heros went when they died...


            Yo! TwistedLogic here! This is my first ever Harry Potter fic… and it was an evil one at that. It just popped into my head and ran rampant with a sledgehammer. Great way to get an idea let me tell you. Then was a wonderful night of insomnia and a general lack of motivation to complete homework… *sighs* Well this is what I ended up with. Don't expect a happy ending cause I have yet to create one. O.O I don't own it and if you say I do I will sic Cthulhu on your punk ass. Please review? 

Where Do Hero's Go When They Die?

            Once, when I was little, I asked my father where heroes went when they die. I think it was after I finished a book where the hero was killed in the end or at least seemed to be. I'll never forget what he told me. He said that as long as a hero is remembered they can never really die. At the time I accepted his answer thinking about my book while my father thought of other things entirely. But he was wrong. I didn't realize until much later but that was the first time, of many, that my father lied to me.

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In the end, he wasn't killed by Lord Voldemort. After all, Voldemort was dead and it's hard to kill some one when you are dead yourself. It wasn't a death eater. They pretty much left him alone after the defeat of their master. What a bunch of idiots. It wasn't an errant spell meant for someone else. It wasn't a well-aimed bludger, after all he quit Quidditch long before. It wasn't even anything magic related. It was nothing that one would have expected to befall the Boy Who Lived. After all who really considered him mortal even though we all knew him to be human.

For some reason I never expected him to change. I mean I know we all change but I thought he of all people would be the same. Stupid of me right? They sent me out to find him. I work for the Ministry now. Shocked? Well things aren't always as they appear. Least of all me. So like I said they sent me to find him. And I went like the good boy I am. Someone had gotten it into his or her head that we needed to have a reunion, Potter and I. Must have been some kind of cruel joke. 

Which is why I found myself standing outside a tasteless muggle apartment complex. Honestly it was a real shit hole. I couldn't imagine why someone like him would live in such a place, even with his muggle background. The place was a mess and I don't mean that lightly. There were random shards of glass littering the floor, trash everywhere. It was a place where, to put it simply, no one gave a shit. With a sigh, I mounted the stairs. Even if it was working I doubt I would trust the lift in this place, assuming it even had one. It figures he would live on the top floor of the damn building.

Then before I knew it I was standing outside the door to his apartment, wondering who up there hated me. With my luck, that would have been just about everyone. I almost couldn't bring myself to knock on the door. But then I have never been known to be a coward. A lot of other things maybe but never a coward. So, hesitating slightly and taking a deep breath, I knocked on the door. Nothing.  Maybe he hadn't heard me? He probably had guests over and was having a grand old time never knowing anyone was at the door and it was doubtful he would care if he knew because it wasn't as if we were friends or anything. What am I not allowed to be a bitter, selfish bastard now or something? At least I was never ignorant as well. So being the glutton for punishment that I am I tried knocking again, louder this time. 

"Who is it?" A voice called from inside. I frowned at that. The voice wasn't familiar. It didn't sound like Potter to me. Had I gotten the wrong door or something? Was the infernal joke about to get that much better? Or worse depending on your point of view.

"I'm looking for someone, an old acquaintance if you will. Do you think you could be so kind as to help me?" So sue me, I always was a suck up. At least when I felt the situation demanded it. I heard the sound of a deep sigh coming from the other side of the door and the sound of a chain lock and deadbolt being disengaged. I smiled. Victory it would seem was mine. I put on my best "I'm a nice, good person in need of some assistance" look. Being in Slytherin taught me a lot, including some of the sneakiest ways to get what you want, besides the obvious of simply taking it as if you deserved it.  
            The look slid right off my face as I got a good look at the person on the other side of the door. Suddenly I knew I had the right address after all. Bloody hell! What in the name of [insert name of patron deity here] happened to him! He still resembled the Potter I went to school with, only not. The hair was the same and he was still as thin as a rail but there seemed to be more to it than before. It didn't look… healthy. That was the first inkling I got that something wasn't right here. Then he looked at me. I saw into his eyes. Then I knew without a doubt that something was very, very wrong here.

The only reaction I got out of him was a slight widening of the eyes. That was it. No shout of 'how dare you' or 'what the hell are you doing here' or any sort of explosion at all. I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. It seemed not everything had changed. Well not completely. He dropped his eyes and turned slowly walking back into his apartment. I stood there for a second partly in shock, partly confusion and partly relief that he hadn't done any of the things I was expecting. And at least he hadn't slammed the door in my face, which I am sure I deserved. I wasn't sure what to do then.

"Are you coming in or not Malfoy? It's all the same to me. Just shut the door either way. I may not have much but that doesn't mean I want to be robbed blind by some punk." That voice again. It sounded… dead, defeated, empty. It may have been duty that brought me here, curiosity that lead me inside, but it was something else entirely that made me stay. So I went inside carefully shutting the door behind me and latching it. Was I locking the outside out or us in? Or was I doing it for some other reason entirely? I didn't know then and I don't know now. It just seemed like the thing to do. And it probably was the right thing. Well the right thing for us. To hell with the rest of the world. Do I hold a grudge against the world? Maybe, probably but it can't be helped now and personally, I find the world deserves it. But then is a grudge held by a Malfoy really worth anything? I highly doubt it. I learned a lot while I was locked inside that apartment. It wasn't all roses and sweet things. It was pain, destruction, pain, death and more pain. But mostly it was about death.

It was more than a bit awkward for a while. He wasn't going anywhere, in fact it looked like he hadn't left the apartment in ages, and I wasn't leaving not until I figured things out at any rate. I don't know entirely why I was sent there, why I of all people was picked for that job but then maybe someone out there, or up there, knew what they were doing after all. 

The first time he saved their collective asses they put him on a pedestal. When he did it again, the final time ending the situation forever, they ripped that out from under him. Along with everything else. Oh yes I learned a lot. The more I learned the more it got to me, still gets to me. Who the fuck did everyone think they were? What gave them the right to do that? Of all the shitty things I encountered, and believe me there have been a lot before and since then, none filled me with as much disgust for my kind as his story. I was the only one he told it to. The only one who asked most likely. I mean I knew something was going on, well had gone on. It was all rather suspicious at the time but it never struck my mind to find the truth. But now I know. And thus so will you as I am telling you my story, which doesn't even belong to me.

What do you know about the Boy Who Lived? Nothing? Why am I not surprised? A great many encounter misfortune but none as great as him. It started when he turned one year old and never let up, not even in the end. It damaged him beyond belief, beyond anything I could have imagined. Its not like he asked to be the hero of our kind or that he even wanted to. He was out into a situation that was not of his making and came out victorious, to the surprise of many. He was put in that position and simply made the best of it. No one made it easy for him least of all me. I can't tell you how much I regret that now, but if I hadn't would he have been as strong? I wonder…

Though no one has figured out how, at one year of age he survived the killing curse. The only wizard who has ever managed to do that. He managed to dispel an evil lord and was thus given a pedestal and a home with muggles, ignorant ones at that. They are they type who give muggles a bad name. They tried to force the magic out of him and forced him to live in a cupboard. If they weren't already dead… well they would have wished they were when I got through with them. But someone saved me the trouble and they were long dead by the time I found out. Through out school he was tormented and was forced time and again to save our sorry asses. Starting our fourth year the deaths began. Finally, a few years after we graduated the final confrontation occurred. But not before hundreds died. A lot of them friends, comrades, schoolmates of his. 

He returned from the final battle almost dead like the others. Of the fifty or so Aurors that went he was the only survivor. Not a single Death Eater, Auror, or muggle from the area survived. They never identified every body. After he recovered he was cast out. I have never heard of a wizard being cast out. We protect our own. But not him. They sent him away for the deaths of others, ones he hadn't even hurt. They brushed his every effort and presence under the proverbial carpet. They erased as much of him as they could. Made him out to be a maniac or some kind of psycho killer. They couldn't justify sending him to Azkaban so they did one better. Hell, better known as muggle life on earth, in a big city to boot. He was forbidden to use magic, stripped of his wand, and it would have been forcibly removed but he was rather how shall I put this… in shock? Yes that would be a good way of putting it. At least they paid for that place. Although it couldn't have cost much. I shudder just thinking of that shit hole. 

When I brought up his current place of residence his only response was to shrug. At that point we still hadn't broken the ice. As it always was, I was the first one to crack. I couldn't take this despondent Harry Potter anymore. I stood up and paced about the room. It was bare. I would have thought he would have pasted up pictures of his friends, Granger and Weasel. But there wasn't a single thing reminding me of either of them in the whole place. They weren't involved in the final assault and as far as I knew were fine. When I brought up their names the look he gave me would have frozen a lesser man. They too had forgotten their former ally and friend. Well not forgotten but abandoned. I was the one to inform them of the end. If they were truly his friends they should never have done that to him. 

Then I did the unthinkable. I asked him. The truth. He looked at me for a long moment. I looked at those eyes. They used to sparkle with life; one would have been blind to miss that. After I asked, they almost made me shiver. They were dead, like he soon would be. The dead haunted him. Starting with Cedric and ending with everyone at the final battle, with his luck including the evil lord himself. They never let him have peace. I guess the old adage is wrong. The dead don't always rest in peace. They haunted and tormented him as he now does me.  I hope he finds peace now; he deserves it if anyone does. 

He was literally being eaten alive. I knew something was wrong the second I heard his voice. A voice that went well with his eyes. There was an aura about the place. He was also moving funny. I noticed that when he stood up and literally shuffled into the kitchen. Being the curious snake that I am I followed watching him through narrowed eyes. We sat in the kitchen and he continued his tale after popping about a dozen pills of some kind. I stored that in the back of my head. I was outraged to realize I was the only contact from the Wizarding world he had since he was ousted. So that explained the look he gave me. We talked all that day and into the next. I hadn't realized how late it had gotten until I saw he was about to drop. 

"Come on Potter." I said standing up. "We can continue this after you have gotten some sleep okay?" He gave me a look of appreciation. He stood up as if to walk me out or something and about collapsed. I caught him before he could crash into anything. He barely weighed a thing! Lifting him up, despite his protests of being fine, I made my way to his room, the only one in the apartment left. A tiny place really. There was no way he was fine. Since I couldn't very well lock the door on my way out I stayed on the couch. It was a long night. I tried to figure out what the hell was going on with him.

He was surprised to see me still there the next day, not that I blame him. He seemed even smaller than he had the day before. Not that I was going to tell him but I was worried. Imagine that! Me, a Malfoy, worried about someone else. I suppose stranger things have happened. When he finally finished his tale I had no choice but to leave. I knew if I stayed much longer people would start wondering anyway. I made a deal with Potter before I left. I would come back every week and if he needed anything to contact me. He agreed. So I left. 

I came back the next week and the one after that. He seemed to grow thinner and more frail and dead inside with each visit. He kept popping more and more pills during my visits but never offering any explanation. We would talk about anything. He could let out all his fears, insecurities and nightmares about what happened. I was the only ear he had and I wasn't about to judge him or criticism him like so many others. We became… friends in that time. I could talk to him, at ease with someone for the first time in my life. Time of course had little concern for me. It came to tear him away. The final insult to him. He wasn't even given an honorable death. 

When I said he was being eaten alive I wasn't joking. Somehow he contracted a very fatal disease. Wizards could have fixed him up in no time. He should have told me. Maybe I could have helped him. But by the time I came along he was probably already too far-gone. My fourth visit was the last. I came as usual and was surprised when he failed to answer the door. I tried again. Nothing. With a pop I disapparated into his apartment, technically I wasn't supposed to use magic on this mission but I decided they could kiss my ass. Worry was now the only thing I could feel. 

"Harry?" I called out trying to find him. He was in the bedroom. I could tell as soon as I entered the room and saw him. Slowly I moved towards his side. Why did he leave me? He knew I was coming. He knew I would help him. There was a note. By the side of the bed. It was addressed to Draco. He had never called me that. Only Malfoy. 

Draco~ 

The last thing I want to do now is hurt someone else, namely you. It seems I just can't do anything without someone else paying for it. But that's the story of my life, as you know by now. I'm sorry that it took so much death for me to finally take your hand. Unfortunately I didn't really have time to make up for all the time we lost over the years. I know you saw what I was doing, the pills, and the loss of weight. I saw your eyes watching my every move, trying to put it all together. I am sick Draco. Very sick. That's why I let you in that first day. I figured if you were there to kill me I might as well get it over with. But you didn't. You did something I never expected. You asked. You listened. So I told you. Everything. And you didn't judge me, unlike everyone else. I told you how terrible it was to watch everyone fall around you and be unable to stop it. I did the only thing I could. I killed the one responsible but not before it was too late to save anyone. The hardest thing I ever had to do was return alone and remain so until now. I don't have much time left. I soon will join my fallen comrades, although whether in heaven or hell I don't know. I don't know what I would have done without you the last few weeks. You made my time seem more peaceful than it has in years and I thank you for that. Do me a favor. Remember me when no one else will? Don't bother telling anyone once I am gone. I doubt they will care. They seem to have forgotten me already.

Harry

            Tears still spring to my eyes when I think of his passing. He was alone in the end. Some friend I turned out to be. I did go against one of his wishes. I thought it was for the best. I hunted out Granger. If anyone I thought she would care. They were best friends after all although I knew it wasn't so at the time. That was also the time I decided to leave the Ministry, a bunch of hypocrites if I ever saw one so I had plenty of time to arrange my trip to see Granger.

            To say she was surprised to see me would have been like saying getting hit with crucio only hurts a little. At that point I couldn't care less what she thought of me. I didn't like her in school and with everything that happened since I had no reason to start now. She hadn't done anything to deserve more. To say I was pissed would also have been a minor understatement. But she let me in, albeit hesitatingly. 

            "What do you want Malfoy?" Always was business first, that one. Well if that is what she wanted we could skip the… pleasantries. The glare I fixed her with was one of my best I will admit. She let out a squeak. Can you imagine that? Mrs. Head Girl gets one little smirk from me years out of school and squeaks. Oh the satisfaction in that.

            "Very well. As you wish." I pulled out the letter Harry wrote me and tossed it onto the table in front of her and simply looked down on her. Literally and figuratively. She made no move to pick it up. I sighed. "Well aren't you going to read it? It is from someone you might remember. Might mean something to you when you read the words."

            I couldn't help but smirk in satisfaction as I watched her face. Could never hide anything on her face. Would have made a terrible Slytherin. By the end of the note she was visibly crying. A better reaction I couldn't have hoped for. It meant she still cared. But it was too late for Harry. The one who needed her.

            "What happened Granger? Where were you when he was slowly killing himself? Alone in an empty apartment? Why was I the one to be there in the end? It should have been someone who cared." 

            "I…" She stood up here and started nervously pacing about the room. Calmly I stood there, my eyes never leaving her. "I didn't know…"

            There may have been more that followed that statement but what can I say I lost it. "You didn't know? Didn't know what Granger? That he was the only survivor of the final battle? That he watched everyone around him fall only to survive? When he came back he was emotionally scared? Well I would have thought that one would be obvious! Or was it that he was ousted from society? Or better yet that he was dying? I took one look at him and heard his voice and I knew something was wrong. I am supposed to be the heartless bastard in his life not his best friend." Somewhere during my speech she sunk to the floor and was sobbing into her hands. "You disgust me." I picked up my letter, the only thing I have from my Harry, and left. 

I have not made any effort to contact her or Weasel since then nor have I responded to them. Why should I? They are every bit as responsible for his death as I am and as the one who cursed his life from its beginning. Harry is a hero in the deepest sense of the word. He died alone, in pain, with only me in the world. Hardly a fitting end for such a person. My father's words came back to me then. I remember Harry but that doesn't make him anymore alive.


End file.
